She was in sexual quicksand and sinking fast. Pasting on a smile as fake as a three-dollar bill, she swung open the door. “Back so soon?”
Larkin was hot, hungry and irritated with himself. He’d spent the past several hours trying to concentrate on business while at the same time spinning fantasies that involved a naked Winnie Bellamy in his bed. It was ludicrous. He’d like to blame the aberration on the heat or the fact that he’d broken his cardinal rule about drinking on the job and had a beer at lunch. Unfortunately, the temperature was still comfortably in the low eighties, and the alcohol content of the ale was minuscule.
So where did that leave him? He’d worked hard to keep his business life impersonal and his private life completely separate from business. As a security professional, he prided himself on protecting the weak, the innocent and, sometimes, the naive. Occasionally, he protected the powerful, if the price was right. But never, ever did he allow a client to break through his emotional firewalls. He was a man who liked his own company, and he didn’t need anyone. More importantly, he didn’t want anyone to need him…at least anyone who wasn’t paying for his services.
Winnie, he could already tell, was going to pose a problem. He found himself making exceptions to hard-and-fast rules—going over and above what she had hired him to do—and he wasn’t sure he could stop himself. Installing her in the bosom of his family made sense on paper. But the reality was far murkier. Would he have done this for anyone else?
When she opened the door, it was all he could do not to stare. She had showered recently. Her damp hair, twisted in a knot on top of her head, smelled of honeysuckle. He sucked in a sharp breath. Down, boy.
The overalls were gone, but now she wore soft, faded jeans that hugged her trim legs, along with a white T-shirt that read Take a Book to Bed. The image of his new employer tucked beneath the covers wearing who knows what sent his libido tumbling into an entirely inappropriate free fall. He cleared his throat, feeling heat creep up his neck. “I’m back.”
She surveyed the small duffel bag at his feet. “So you are. Come in.”
As he stepped into the cool foyer, he handed her a sack filled with paper cartons. “Chinese takeout. I hope that’s okay. You said your housekeeper had the day off.”
She grabbed the offering and inhaled. “Are you kidding? Ambrosia of the gods. I love living in the country, but the lack of fast food is a definite drawback at times. Come on into the kitchen. And by the way, you get points for paying attention. Most men I know would have missed that entirely.”
“It’s my job to notice details.” Like the way her lacy bra barely concealed pert nipples pressing against thin fabric.
He dropped his bag at the foot of the stairs and followed her into the kitchen like a puppy dog sniffing for a treat. Her feet were bare. Though he had appreciated the sexy gold sandals, her naked toes with raspberry polish were equally alluring.
As they ate, Winnie’s pointed questions reminded him that he was in residence as a professional.
She held up a chopstick, waving it in the air. “Let’s hear it. What am I getting for my money?”
He grinned at her, enjoying the way she sparred with him. “Well, first of all, my top cyber guy is going over all your computer stuff via remote access right now. He won’t tamper with any of your data, but he’ll seal leaks and shore up weaknesses in your points of entry.”
“I have no idea what that means in reality, but go ahead.”
“First thing in the morning, I’ll have a team here installing a sophisticated system around the perimeter of your property. It’s a combination of fencing and electric sensors. I don’t think you’ll find it unbearably intrusive, but with the cameras and the monitoring station here in the house, my team can assure you that no one will approach unannounced.”
When Winnie beamed at him, he felt the punch in his heart first and his gut second. Pleasing her could rapidly become an addiction.
“That’s fast work,” she drawled. “I’m impressed.”
“During the next two days, I’ll work with my team to make sure all the bugs in the system are ironed out. Then, with your permission, you and I will head out for Wolff Mountain first thing Thursday morning.”
Her smile dimmed. “Are you sure you don’t want to just stash me away with an assumed name in some anonymous city apartment?”
“Ideally, yes.” Winnie’s crestfallen expression pained him, but he plowed on. She might as well read his bottom line. “But I see no need to waste time, money and manpower when the solution is at hand without any need for preparation. As I said before, Wolff Mountain is a fortress. Because of that, I won’t feel obliged to stick around. I have no qualms about leaving you there. You don’t have to be scared of my family. They’re pretty nice people, all in all.”
“They’re Wolffs.”
“Yes. And you’re Winifred Bellamy. Perhaps they’ll be afraid of you.”
That made her laugh. “I’ve never scared anyone in my life. I’m harmless.”
“Says the woman who shoots to kill.”
“Or maim.”
“Do I get a choice?”
“Don’t make me mad, and you won’t have to worry about it.”
They were flirting. He knew it, and he was pretty sure she knew it. The awareness in her eyes matched the ache in his groin. Such an unexpected turn of events could make his life both very complicated and extremely frustrating.
When he found himself watching her soft, pink lips form words while at the same noticing the gentle rise and fall of her breasts as she talked, he decided it was time to retreat until he could decide what to do about the situation. “I’m pretty beat,” he said, with an exaggerated yawn. “If you don’t mind showing me my room, I think I’ll turn in and do some reading.”
Her look of incredulity as she glanced at the clock made him squirm. Seven-thirty? She’d think he was some kind of geriatric. He backtracked quickly. “Of course, if you have any other suggestions…”
The room fell silent. His unwittingly suggestive add-on sounded far naughtier than he had intended.
Winnie eyed him curiously. “Like what?”
He swallowed. “Oh, I don’t know. A walk. Netflix. Reality TV.”
The heavy silence lengthened. Finally she responded. “An early night suits me, too,” she said, her expression impossible to read. “I keep case studies on all my moms and kids, not as a licensed professional, but more of an anecdotal record while they’re in my care. I’m behind on several of those, so I should catch up. Especially if I’m going to be gone for a few weeks.”
Something struck him. “Does the state reimburse you for the expenses you incur?”
“Of course not. I choose to do this.”
“Foster parents get a stipend.”
“It’s not the same thing at all. You know I don’t need the money. I wouldn’t take it even if they offered.” She seemed offended that he would even suggest such a thing. Her motives for such dedication were unclear, but since she was only a client, he didn’t press for more. As she stood abruptly, he followed suit. “I’ll show you your room,” she said, the words clipped.
Larkin followed her back to the foyer and up the stairs, pausing only to grab his bag. The house was furnished with impeccable taste, luxury in every detail, but nothing at all ostentatious. He wondered if she had redone the place after her parents’ deaths, and he suspected she had. Somehow the decor reflected the personality of its owner.